After Tremors
by SaintJacTheGingerNinja
Summary: It's the day of Pat's funeral and tensions are running high. But, someone is effected most of all, and, with no one to sought comfort with, will their grief get out of control?


**Hello Eastenders fans.**

**I noticed that there was not many Janine fanfics on here, so, as she is my favourite character I thought I would write this one.**

**This is my first ever Eastenders fanfiction, so please tell me what you think :) Ideas are welcome. I don't know if its going to be a one-shot or multi chapter yet, so I will decide at a later date. Enjoy :)**

* * *

><p>It was the day of Pat's funeral and the tensions in the Butcher's household was the maximum range. Bianca and Ricky were at each other's throats, and Carol and David were reacquainting their lost love. The children were upstairs in their grandmother's bedroom, pondering their last moments and past memories together. No one took any notice of the blonde women in the living room – she was an outcast… a nobody… Michael had disappeared at the first chance he had got. Now there was no one left to comfort this misunderstood person, who stood, crying, wishing the guilt away.<p>

Janine Butcher quickly wiped the fresh tears, which had trailed slowly down her face, away with a swift brush of her hand, hoping that any weakness, on her part, was not revealed. Her mind was a blur of thoughts, her heart a haze of new, yet unwanted emotions threatening to emerge from the deepest depths of her dark tainted soul. Aberrantly, Janine's usually well-groomed blonde hair was dirty and matted, forming small locks at the base of her neck. Exhaling, she closed her eyes, rubbing her forehead therapeutically, though this was to no avail, and seized a large bottle of vodka from the table. Janine stood in silence, only broken by the quiet noise of desired liquid travelling into her mouth.

After a short while, an auburn haired child entered the room, her vibrant coat contrasting greatly with the white of the wallpaper; she placed her small hands onto her hips, subconsciously imitating her mother.

"Should you be drinking that?" Tiffany Butcher asked, raising a questioning eyebrow. Janine rolled her eyes, her impassive expression contorting into an apparent frown.

"No, should you of been born?" She replied, her hand dismissing the child with a quick motion. Tiffany refused to be defeated - her emerald eyes, like deserted meadows, glinted with steely determination.

"It could give the baby bad problems." She argued. Janine sighed and cocked her head, staring at her niece exasperatedly.

"Well that explains it then." Tiffany furrowed her brow in evident perplexity.

"Explains what?" She responded, waving a piece of paper, which she had in her hand, in the air. Janine smirked; she arched her back so that she was eye-level with the child.

"You." She sneered, putting the bottle to her lips. Tiffany frowned suddenly, crossed her arms and, in petulance, stormed out of the room. Janine smiled.

"Well your mother probably drank when you were in there too." She shouted to her niece's dispersing form.

Michael surveyed the world around him through his impassive, dark brown eyes. The market stalls that he browsed from held everything: food, toys, clothes… though Michael wished that one held the answers he was looking for. Children ran beside him, laughing and giggling with the upmost contentment… they hadn't a care in the world. This emotionless, misunderstood man was soon to be a father, and Michael couldn't sort out the thoughts in his mind to comprehend how he felt, how he would cope. Approaching the Queen Victoria, his hard exterior returned, the shield to his soul, and he smiled charmingly, receiving a few longing glances in return. Quickly, Michael spotted his cousin and headed over, nodding his head at him in a silent acknowledgement.

"Oi, Alfie, have you seen Janine?" He asked, sliding his hands into his coat pockets casually. Kat dared not to hide her expression of disgust, for this was the father of her child, and, after several attempts to disregard him, replied callously.

"No, we ain't seen Satan around ere." Michael smiled emotionlessly.

"I wasn't aware I was actually talking to you." He answered, turning to Alfie. The man in question tweaked his west ham shirt, and glanced at his cousin from his loving eyes.

"No mate, we haven't seen her, though I have a lovely deal that you may like…" Alfie stopped, as Michael had walked off, assuming the conversation was over.

Janine ran her hands threw her thick blonde hair, staring into the nothingness, the empty void, her mind reminiscing the past. She winced as the overpowering guilt and sadness reached her from the comfort of her thoughts and she closed her eyes, closing out the world. Slowly, she rummaged in her bag, panicking slightly, and, when her fingers finally closed around the small object she desired, let out a sigh of relief. Janine pulled out a brown bottle, the contents rattling the casing of their prison. Prising the lid open, Janine lifted the container to her mouth and poured the drugs into her body. The house was silent as she crumbled to the floor, the blackness shrouding her surroundings.

* * *

><p><strong>I Hope you all enjoyed this, and I hope all of the characters are in character, as I haven't wrote them before, so please tell me your thoughts! PLEASE R&amp;R! :D<strong>


End file.
